


to have and to hold

by Etheostoma



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, Minor Angst, Persephone Still has Doubts, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etheostoma/pseuds/Etheostoma
Summary: She knew it was a work in progress, they both did. Their wound was closed but still raw, and Persephone, even with the wall gradually breaking down and their own seasonal give-and-take restored and flourishing—she doubted.She couldn't help it.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	to have and to hold

There was something about just having somebody _there_ , Persephone thought sleepily, pressing herself more firmly against her husband’s solid back. Split as her life was was, separated from her other half for six long months, she felt the resonant ache of solitude all-too-deeply. It made a soul appreciate the little things in life. Simply having another person there beside her, a hand to hold and a breath to share, was not something she had ever taken for granted.

She valued it now more than ever before.

She'd experienced that void in her chest for far too long, longed for decades for the return of the one meant to sit and stand and lay beside her during the ebb and flow of the worlds above _and_ below—

Arm snaking around Hades’ waist, she burrowed her head into the slight dip where his neck met his back, her lips tickling his nape as she breathed in the comforting aroma _Hades--_ of smoke, sharp metal, and a rich earthen musk that was solely his and his alone.

He was her home, and she his, but _Fates_ had it taken them both so painfully _long_ to remember that simple fact.

Palm flattening on his chest, she breathed in with the steady thrum of his heart and tried not to let the ache that gripped her when she thought of that lost time consume her.Deep breaths, steady breaths, steady thoughts—it was not worth falling into the throes of despair, not when they were finally working toward something better for themselves.

He was so peaceful like this, her man—face smooth of its furrowed brow and standard frown, dark lashes brushing pale cheeks, his hair out of its usual style and falling loosely against his face. Persephone hummed and shifted again, maneuvering her face so that she could tuck her chin atop his shoulder, cheek now snug against his neck, breath brushing the scratchy hair of his beard. She tucked her toes between his knees—the farthest they would reach, with most of her body nestled against his solid back—working with a well-familiar diligence to pry his legs apart and plaster herself against and around him.

They’d been out of sync for so long, and it conjured such a resonant agony that she felt her carefully metered breath catch, her body stiffening despite itself and seizing in the agony she tried so hard to repress.

It was these thoughts that kept her awake long after even Hades retired, the dark god often not seeking his respite until well after what passed for the midnight hour in his realm. Even so, Persephone was haunted by what could have been, what _should_ have been between them. She felt her breath catch in her throat, overwhelmed, and the hand not pressed against her husband curled around to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to push out the negative thoughts and emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Anxiety spiking, her palm moved down over her mouth, muffling the erratic shift of her breath, stifling the tormented groan that threatened to break free despite herself.

Moments like these were when she truly envied her husband. He had his own regrets, she knew that better than anyone, had his own worries and fears and anxieties, but—he could turn them off, could find respite and solace in their mending relationship and the knowledge that he had her now, had in fact _always_ had her.

She hated that she couldn’t.

Even with the wall gradually breaking down, with order shifting and restoring itself amongst the shades, even with their own seasonal give-and-take restored and flourishing—she doubted.

She _hated_ it, hated the doubt and uncertainty that even now tore at her from the inside, clawing its way up and out until she could not help but confront it _._

She knew it was a work in progress, they both did—one couldn’t patch a gaping wound with a single plaster, had to instead sew it up one stitch at a time. Their wound was closed but still it _ached,_ a bright scar that glowed a raw, a ripe, angry red, throbbing and aching within the deepest recesses of her mind.

Eyes fluttering closed, she forced out a sequence of even, measured breaths, letting the gentle rise and fall of Hades’ chest beneath her hand and the give and take of his back against her chest settle and soothe. The deep rhythm of his breaths calmed her, brought her back to the present and lured her away from the unhappy doubts that still lurked in the shadows of her mind.

“I never could make it without you by my side,” she murmured into his ear, carding her fingers ever so gently through his hair, a confession spared solely for the sanctity of the night.

He grunted in his sleep and brought one calloused hand up to catch hers where it rested at his breast, thumb drawing a line along her knuckles. It was such an unexpectedly tender gesture, so _Hades,_ that she found herself chuckling, her eyes closing as she cast her mind to wander. The motion forced out the tears that had welled up unbidden in the corners of her eyes, and they trailed silently down her cheeks to forge a watery bridge between them as they pooled on his cool skin.

She had so many regrets, but never this--never _him._

They had been so very young, when they first met all those years ago. Even bearing the scars and cares of wars long gone by, he remained young in the scale of the world and the gods. They both seemed younger even still as she looked back now, casting her mind out into the intricate web of their memories and all that had passed since those early days.

They had not the cares carved into their skin that they did now, she mused, tracing the crow’s eyes that crinkled at the corners of his eyes even in sleep. She pressed a kiss to the smear of water on the back of his neck, tasting salt as she breathed her tears into his skin.

They had wed up top, that fine spring day in their clearing, her hand clasped between both of his and his ring gleaming on her finger. Promises were shared, love pledged. They passed ideals and fervent declarations of _forever_ between them, eyes wide and earnest, their passion bright and yet untempered by time.

Though _,_ she couldn’t help but think wryly, a hot flush tinting her flesh as she felt the phantom brush of his lips against her skin, they weren’t exactly tempered _now_ , either.

Afterward, they had walked together down that winding path south, hand-in-hand and side-by-side. He was a stalwart presence beside her, every iota of his dark intensity focused entirely on _her._

It was enough to flatter a girl, give her ideas.

More than that, though, it set a precedent. You got used to havin’ somebody, after that—somebody to have, somebody to hold, someone who was always there in all the ways they’d promised and more.

They had done everything together those months after their wedding, and the countless hundreds and thousands of winters that’d followed.Persephone and Hades, life and death, man and wife—they belonged together, and Furies take anyone who said otherwise.

Spring and summer were always a torment, her bed cold at night and colder in the morning despite the warm tang of the air. She did love the warm kiss of the sun across her skin, the caress of the stars and the moon, but _Fates_ did she always miss her man. The touch of the seasons was no substitute for the play of warm lips across her face, the gentle press of calloused fingers and palm against hers, the solid certainty of a sturdy body beside her every night.

Hard work and ripe reward were well and good, but those victories were hollow and empty when there was no one special with whom to share them.

Then he’d changed, and _she_ had changed, and even when they _were_ together they weren’t. They hadn’t had each other for the longest time—even in winter.

They hid from themselves, used distance, fear, and guilt as excuses and masking problems behind lie after lie until the lies were so interwoven with the truth that even they could no longer tell which was which. It was a separation she had felt fiercely, a dull, empty ache that could not be soothed.

He had been blinded by fear and pride, she by drink and denial, and in turn they hadn’t seen each other in the longest side.

Hades mumbled something in his sleep and shifted, a living landslide of pale skin and muscle that was more than enough to shake Persephone from her maudlin thoughts.

“You’re thinking,” he murmured, voice muffled and thick with sleep. “I can hear you.” He tipped his head up to press a kiss to her chin, freeing the arm he’d trapped beneath himself with a slight wince.

She snorted, shifting to accommodate him as he rolled onto his back, his other arm lifting to allow her to curl up against his chest and tuck her head under his chin. “Even you can’t hear thoughts, my king,” she hummed, pressing her cold nose into the skin of his neck and snickering as he grunted. “That’s too much power, even for _you.”_

 _“_ But wouldn’t it be something?” he hummed in reply, eyebrows rising in a thoughtful expression as he twisted his head to peer at her, a halfhearted attempt at levity as he sensed the gravitas hanging about her in a dark shroud.

One honeyed arm slid up his waist and along his flank, sliding slowly back into place against his chest, pressing intently against his heart. “You already know ‘em,” she told him, tapping out a rhythm that was solely theirs, eyes fluttering as her mind slowed. Already she felt herself drifting, lulled and soothed by the simple pleasure of his presence.

His free hand rose and clasped hers, fingers twining together. “And isn’t _that_ somethin’?” he marveled, voice raw with honest wonder.

“Mmm.” She murmured her agreement, heart skipping like a schoolgirl’s as he lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the backs of her fingers.

“I know you still haven’t been sleeping,” he rumbled, free hand combing through her hair, sorting and smoothing and soothing as it carded through the wild locks. “I know you still worry, that you yet fear things we cannot name.” He sighed heavily. “I wish you didn’t, that you didn’t _have_ to, but…”His voice trailed off, and she knew without looking that his brow was furrowed in a dark frown, his thoughts and frustration turned inward on himself.

“It’ll pass, lover,” she told him firmly, telling herself the same and quashing any lingering doubts as she did. “We’ll work through it, just like we’ve worked our way through everything else.” As she spoke, she was filled with a sudden certainty that she was right, that no matter what fears her mind conjured on these darkest of nights his presence there beside her—sleeping or awake—was enough proof that they would be able to weather any storm.

His thumb traced the swell of her lower lip. “But you can’t help but doubt,” he finished for her, “and I’ve given you no reason to believe otherwise.”

“Now just wait a moment there, mister,” she protested, dislodging his hand as she sat all the way up, twisting so that they were face-to-face. “You’ve done plenty over the years, and more’n that these last months.” Seizing his hand, she drew it to her breast, aligning it with her heart. “My head might give me a turn sometimes, but that? That never doubts.” The pulse of her heart beneath his palm was a measured as his own had been beneath her hand.

“I married you, didn’t I?” she asked wryly, throwing her arms around his shoulders and flinging herself into his broad chest. “And here we are, _still_ married despite the rocky bits.”

He chuckled, unable to keep a slight smile from touching his lips. “More boulders than rocks, I would say.”

Persephone snorted. “True enough.” She curled up against him. “Still doin’ alright, though, I’d say.”

“Mmm.” Hades murmured his agreement, stroking one hand across her back and reclining them back against the pillows. “Sleep, lover,” he told her, brushing a kiss to each cheek before catching her lips in a soft caress, a gentle promise. “I’ll be here to chase away any fears.” She drifted off cocooned in his arms, surrounded by her stalwart, stoic fortress--

—and when she awoke, he was still there, arms secure about her and his heart steady beneath her ear.

**Author's Note:**

> And, here we go with another one. The quarantine muses strike again!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are always much appreciated....I always love feedback, especially when I'm writing for new fandoms :)


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